Letters Home
by StayGold3
Summary: Ponyboy is at college in New York, and is sending letters home to the gang. He's gotten a different perspective on things now. Dally and Johnny are dead, but Ponyboy writes to them anyway to get his emotions out. Rated M for possible language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first time formatting a fanfic like this, so I'd appreciate some feedback. Also, I do not own _The Outsiders._

Darry,

I miss you and Sodapop a lot — you know that. College is great, and whatever. I can tell you ll of that later. Just so you don't worry Darry, I'm fine. But I just want to say something. Thank you. Thank you for pushing me forward, for yelling at me when my grades dropped, for doing everything in your range of possibility to get me to where I am today. After Johnny and Dally left us — I thought I would go the same way Dally did — I thought I would break. He was tougher than I was, and if he couldn't take it, I didn't think I could either.

But you essentially forced me to keep living. And I'll owe that to you for the rest of my life. You and Sodapop. You gave me a reason to keep living. To wake up every morning and not question my own existence. I know that sounds cliché. I know you're disgusted by my soppiness. But Darry, really, it's true.

Everybody has a breaking point. Dally's was when Johnny died. Yours was when you thought I had left the same way. Sodapop's was when he lost Sandy and me in the same week. Mine — my breaking point is when I feel like the world is ending. And I feel like I don't deserve to live. And I know what you are going to tell me. Because you've told me this before. You've told me that I deserve to live, I need to live, and more than living, I need to _thrive._ And right before I left on that plane, you told me you were proud. You didn't tell me why.

You'll never tell me why. Because I know why. Because I lived your dream, Darry, that's why. Your dream, to go to college, and _be_ somebody, someday. That's why you were so hard on me. I see it now. I understand what Soda and Dally, and even Johnny have been telling me all of these years. The only reason that you were hard on me — and don't you dare blame it on yourself — is this. You wanted me to be everything that you couldn't be. Because you saw yourself in me.

Everybody wonders, oh you don't look like Darry, you don't look like Sodapop. Maybe. That might just be true. But I know, and you know, and Soda knows, and that's all that matters — you have a reason. There was reason behind the madness. You didn't need for me to be perfect. I thought so. Maybe that's a surprise to you. Maybe it isn't. I don't know what you're thinking Darry, but all I know is that you never wanted me to be perfect. Love. Caring. Protection. Those were the reasons you acted the way you did.

And I don't want you to regret the way that you acted for one moment. Not ever. Because it was all of that — that made me who I am today. Look at me. You see the struggle. The pain. The unpleasant experiences that made me. That made me strong.

The other thing that I never have thanked you for — I feel so ungrateful now— is for not going anywhere yourself. You could've gone to college, gotten a job. But you didn't. Because you cared. You didn't want me to be stuck in a boys' home, away from you and the gang. You understood what was going through my head, and I think that's because I reminded you of yourself. Because all of my teachers tell me the same things they told you.

I love you, Darry, and don't stress out too much. Tell the gang I'm fine but I miss Two-Bit's random remarks, and Steve's random insults, and well, I guess that's all that's left of the gang. Tell Sodapop I miss chocolate cake — he'd be proud.

Love,

Ponyboy


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _The Outsiders,_** **S.E. Hinton does.**

Dally,

I know that you'd scorn the notion of me even writing you a letter, especially know that I know you'll never get it. I'm doing it anyway. You left our world willingly, because Johnny did. He idolized you, Dally, and he loved you. He — he said that you were gallant, like Southern gentlemen with manners and charm. Because that one day, when Two-Bit was breaking out the school windows, and the fuzz thought it was you, you didn't deny it. You didn't split on Two-Bit. It would've been easy to do that, to avoid getting hauled in (again, I might add).

I always respected you, although I never really felt like I was your buddy. Because you were smart, tough, and tuff, and I felt I almost _had_ to respect that. Else you'd probably beat my face in, but that's a different story. Sometimes I wondered why you hated the world. I tried to formulate a reason. Maybe it was because the Socs got all the breaks, and because they were the only ones to hate. And because even whipping their sorry, well, I'm not going to write it, in a rumble wouldn't change anything.

And if that's was what you did think, you were right. We beat them in the rumble. Hell, we _crushed_ them. But did anything change? No. And maybe you had a reason to be so bitter. The only reason that I didn't become you after all of that was because I had hope. Hope that maybe one day, I could get the hell out of Tulsa. Hope that maybe one day, I could go to college, get a job, _publish_ my semester theme, which I did. And that's probably just about the only reason that I kept living.

That, and Darry. He believed in me. And I realize now, what I didn't know before. I reminded him of himself. And he didn't want me to turn into him: getting old before his time, doing physical labor all day every day, even though I had a good brain and could _be_ somebody, someday. And he was right. I got into college. In New York, I might add. New York University. The irony. I just thought you'd be amused.

Moving right along. After Windrixville, I found it — hard. Hard to recover, to get back on my feet, to find a reason that I should drag myself out of bed every morning. But one reason I did was because of you and Johnny. Because I felt that you were looking down from Heaven, and yes, I said Heaven. Nobody in their right minds, no God, no angel, or anyone, would separate Johnny from you. And no, I know that you'd never go to Hell. Because even if you did, there'd be no point. All of your cold exterior would melt, and all that would be left would be your heart of gold.

And yes, I did just tell you that you had — no, have, a heart of gold. Because you do. Maybe it's been masked by the tough, the stoical, the hard, the unfeeling exterior. But you cared. About Johnny. About the gang. And I know you'll never admit it, but that's why the way you died the way you did. Had you not raised that heater, you'd be alive. Alive and scorning me for even writing this. Alive, but broken inside, because Johnny was gone. And you died _smiling._ Which proves conclusively, at least to me, that you wanted to go that way.

You were born a rebel. Because you didn't listen to your parents and all of that other crap. You grew up a fighter. Fighting cops, guys, broads, your parents. You lived a hood, or at least you thought you did. Fighting, stealing, lying, cheating. And you died — Dally, I don't care if you want to kill me for saying this, but you died gallant. You died for Johnny. For those kids, because Johnny died for them, and you died for Johnny. For then gang, almost, so we wouldn't have to see you broken.

But not for yourself. Not ever for yourself. Maybe your folks, the fuzz, some of your friends, thought you were a selfish, narcissistic bastard. But you weren't. You were gold. To me, and to Johnny, and to the gang, at least, and that's all that matters.

And Johnny wanted you to watch a sunset. Because there is still good left in the world. And when you were in the world, you were part of it.

Remember that always, Dally, you are not a no-good hood. You are human. And you are gold. And maybe you left us — because Nothing Gold Can Stay.

Ponyboy

P.S. Read this, and show it to Johnny, will you?

 _Nature's first green is gold_

 _Her hardest hue to hold_

 _Her early leafs a flower_

 _But only so an hour_

 _Then leaf subsides to leaf_

 _So Eden sank to grief_

 _So dawn goes into day_

 _Nothing gold can stay_

 **A/N: I know that Ponyboy's way of writing seems different than it does in the book, but I'm trying to create something more reflective. Thanks for reading.**

 **Stay Gold, Everybody!**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I wasn't really sure how I wanted to write this one - somehow it didn't seem to pan out on paper the way I wanted it in my head. I would greatly appreciate some feedback. Stay Gold, Everybody!

Johnny,

I know you'll never get this — but I'm writing anyway. Johnnycake — you were my best friend, you know that. And I didn't know what to do after you and Dally were gone. I felt like somebody just shoved my heart in and out of my chest just to watch me suffer. That's a really depressing picture, I know, but I just can't think of any other way to convey the feeling, ya dig? I don't have to ask you that; you always understood me.

After you and Dally left us, I didn't even want to get up in the morning. I just felt like life had no point anymore. First you take my parents, then my best friend, then another friend, and next thing you know half the gang's gone. Your letter, Johnny, it saved me. Really. Because you wrote about showing Dally a sunset. Which proved to me that you didn't want him to go like that. And if you didn't want him going that way, I figured you wouldn't have wanted me to do that either.

Speaking of which, Johnny, I'm in college now. In _New York._ How much more ironic can you get? And Darry and me, we're real good now. He just digs me a little better now. And I think what you an' Two-Bit that night were telling me was the truth. Darry loves me, and I finally know why he was so hard on me, apart from the fact that he didn't want to lose me. He saw himself in me, I think, and that's what I'd told him. Told him that I felt that way, and I'm kinda curious to see what his response to that'll be. We've never talked about it. Ever.

The gang — we all took it real hard. Two-Bit 'n Sodapop — they didn't crack a single joke for a week after that. And knowing them, well, you get the idea. I don't know why I'm telling you all of this, Johnny, you've seen it all. You and Dally, I always wondered what it was like up there. And no, I don't think that Dally went to Hell. That's ridiculous. Nobody in their right mind would kill the both of you (again, I suppose) by separating you. And in Hell, for Dally, there's just no point. Because all that would happen would be that his icy exterior would melt away. And all that would be left would be his soul of gold.

And yes, I believe that he was gold. He was tough, tuff, hard, cold, mean, maybe. But he cared. He loved you, Johnny, and that's why he died. He ran out like the devil was after him that night. Maybe he was. Maybe Dally finally saw the devil, after secretly longing to all of these years, and maybe, for the first time in his life, he was frightened. I don't know. I'll _never_ know, no more than you'll ever get this letter, no more than I'm a Soc. But it just feels good to let it all out. I had to, sometime.

And Steve. He started fighting. With everybody. The Socs, Buck, the gang, Darry, me, even _Sodapop._ Sodapop. How do you fight with Sodapop? He's just golden and wonderful, like my mother, Johnny, like Dally, and like you. Because all the people that were taken away from me, they were all gold.

But Johnny, that scares me. Because Darry, Soda, Steve, and Two-Bit, they are all gold, too. And _Nothing Gold Can Stay._ So does that mean… It doesn't bear thinking about.

I hope you're doing alright, and that you and Dally finally have a chance to be free, from society, from your parents, from the cruel, harsh realities of the real world. And be able, for the first time in your life, to enjoy. To live. Maybe death isn't the end. Maybe I have just diminished my greatest fear. Fear of death. Thanatophobia, I think it's called, the fear of dying.

And I just want to thank you, Johnnycake, for being there. When I needed you the most.

Your buddy for always,

Ponyboy


	4. Chapter 4

Steve —

I know you just think I'm a tagalong and a kid, and probably won't even take the time to read this let alone respond — I guess I'll send it anyway. Maybe that's a little harsh, and I'm sorry if you think it is, but, I'm just going to tell you straight — you never minded hearing the cold, hard fact anyway. I'm sorry if I misjudged you all of these years, Steve, and I also think that we're more alike than we care to admit.

I know your blood is probably boiling right now and you're probably going to spontaneously combust and then give Sodapop a lecture on how idiotic his kid brother is. Or maybe that's a little harsh, too. I'm sorry if this sounds redundant and ridiculous, just hear me out, would you?

See, I look at it this way. I always wanted to be around Sodapop. So did you. So we got thrown together maybe a little more than either one of us would have liked. But something that I never told you — never told anyone except for, except for Johnny, when he was with us, I started to like you. Maybe like isn't the right word. At first, I, I always admired you, Steve. Because you were tough, tuff, cool, hard, mean, kind of like Dally but not as extreme. All of the things that I wasn't. And all of the things that, when I was in my teens, ugh, I still am, but whatever, you know what I mean. Anyway, all of the things that I wanted to _be_ when I was younger.

But I wasn't. You were right, that one time that you said that I would never be any of those things, _could_ never be. And now, I'm glad. Glad that I didn't become unfeeling, like Darry, hard, like you, or even just cold-blooded mean, like Dally. (Although there is, _was,_ much more to Dally than that, and we both know it.)

And it's what I had said, before, that we were more alike than we cared to admit. Well, that was true, too. Because we're both stubborn, and headstrong, and extremely compelled _not_ to accept one another, which led to a very strained relationship over the years.

And I bet you think I'm crazy, hell, I _feel_ crazy right now. I never thought, never in a million years that I would send Steve Randle a letter asking him to essentially forgive me for being a tagalong and forgiving him, almost, for not really accepting me.

You know how they talk about mutual acceptance and stuff? We had the opposite, it was almost mutual un-acceptance going on, and I think that it kind of impacted Sodapop as well as the both of us. And the one thing that you stood firm on regarding me, that Darry didn't hate me and that he just wanted me to do well — well, you were right.

I realize now, I can't imagine that it took 4 years and so many miles to get me to realize this — that Darry was hard on me because he saw himself in me, because he wanted me to do everything that he wanted to do and couldn't, and more. And I realize now, that I'm glad. Glad that he did that for me, glad that me pushed me to my limits, glad that he wanted me to be the best that I could be. They say you reap what you sow, but I'm reaping what Darry forced me to sow when I was younger, and man, is it nice.

I miss the gang, my brothers, Johnny, Dally, and even you, Steve, I know you're rolling your eyes, but it's true. College is fine so far, tell Darry that I've got straight A's as of right now, tell Sodapop that I haven't had any nightmares for a week now, touch wood, and Two-Bit that I miss watching Mickey Mouse and eating chocolate cake.

Your buddy,

Ponyboy


	5. Chapter 5

Two-Bit,

I know that the gang's been together for a really long time, as long as I can remember, almost, and all of that. But somehow I felt like I never really knew you, as a person, as a real human being, not as the cheery clown you always were. You, not the happy, jolly wisecracker that you always seemed to be. Because underneath all of that, I felt like, and I still do, that there's something else underneath, that that maybe isn't the real you. That under that smile you hide a secret reality, maybe of pain, maybe of depression, sadness, misery.

And I know that I'm just rambling on and on right now, that you're probably shaking your head at my general foolishness as you read this. Because I know you, or at least I know who you say that you are. I'm not trying to say that you're two-faced or anything like that, you just choose to act in an indifferent fashion so that nothing can touch you.

It's like Dally always said, remember? "Get tough and nothing can touch you?" It's the same thing, pretty much. Or like Steve. Hardened and didn't give a hang about — well, anybody, really, with the possible exception of Sodapop. But he's gold, everybody knows that about him. He kind of just _radiates,_ ya dig? Not just his movie-star looks and stuff, but his personality, too.

See, sitting here in college, a guy gets a lot more free time than you'd think. Honestly, I have time every day to sit around and watch the sunset, the stars, the clouds, and just think. I think, I always have and probably always will, but above anything else, I remember. I remember the days when the gang was all together, and Johnny and Dally and my parents were still with us.

The good old days, when we used to sit around the kitchen table just talking, laughing and joking like there's no place we'd rather be. Because there wasn't. Now that I think of it, those were the best days. The days free of stress, and worry, school, track, bills, jobs, and most of all, submerging people we love six feet under.

The days we were all innocent, save for Dallas, of course, and were a little shy and awkward to begin with. Remember? The days when you used to try an' hook me and Johnny up with girls and we were scared? Honestly, I'd still be, even now, even now that I'm all of eighteen, which really isn't that old if you think about it. Or maybe it is, I dunno. Because I know so many people that died too young, Johnny, 16, Daly, not much better, 17, my parents, hell, they were in their forties!

They all left us, Two-Bit, and for a while, your sense of humor paired with Soda and Darry's constant encouragement (though I'm not going to lie, they had different ways of expressing themselves,) were the only things that I lived for. Only. Really.

Because with every laugh, every tear, every smile, I remembered. All of the laughs, the tears, the smiles from the past that I can never get back now. But I remember. And I'm fair certain that you do too. Sorry if I'm rambling again, Two-Bit, I just need somebody to talk to, ya know? Of course you do, you always listened to me. Not that I ever talked much. But that's a different story. Say hey to the guys, well, to Steve and my brothers for me, will you?

Pony


End file.
